Grip
by Rei-Kuhori
Summary: Dr. Chase has played an important role in solving all the “medical mysteries” bombarding the team. But when all of a sudden Chase is the victim, can House crack a case without him? NOW COMPLETE.
1. Part I

**Title:** Grip

**Fandom: **House, M.D.

**Genre: **General

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairings: **none

**Summary: **Dr. Chase has played an important role in solving all the "medical mysteries" bombarding the team. But when all of a sudden Chase is the victim, can House crack a case without him?

**Warnings: **some foul language, crude humor, and medical terms

**Author's Mindless Babbling: **Okay, here it is: my first House fic. I actually had to _research _for this fic. Like I said, this is my first fic in this fandom so I hope you'll go easy on me.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Chase coughed.

Cameron looked at him and frowned. "Are you alright?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah." He glanced at his watch, and then up at the clock on the wall for confirmation. "Quarter of nine;" he commented. "House isn't here yet?"

Cameron pursed her lips, sighing. "No."

"And he yells at us. The bloody asshole." There was no spite in his words, though, and Chase moved to peer over Cameron's shoulder at her clipboard. "What do we have today, anything?"

"Fortunately for you;" House said from the doorway "we don't have any bloody assholes. If we did, you'd be the one going in to sew them up." He limped into the room and almost playfully tapped Chase on the head with a red folder before settling himself in one of the chairs. "Thirty-two-year-old female, five-foot-seven, 135 pounds. Came in about half an hour ago, coughing up blood." He surveyed them expectantly. "Any ideas?"

"Pneumonia?" Cameron suggested.

"No fever, blood tested negative. What else?"

"Could be advanced tuberculosis." Foreman mused. "Has she been vaccinated?"

Chase looked at him skeptically. "Do you honestly think you're going to get a rational answer to that out of a woman who's coughing up blood?"

"I don't see you coming up with anything;" Foreman shot back.

Chase paused for a moment, thinking. "It's clearly a respiratory infection, possibly a broken blood vessel in the lungs. Might be a pulmonary embolism." He leaned back in his chair. "We should get a CT scan of the lungs and an MRI. We'll have a better chance of treating her when we know what we're dealing with."

House nodded. "And that was what I was looking for." He pushed himself up. "Get the tests scheduled, I'll check in later."

Chase frowned, looking up at him. "Where are you going?"

"_I_ am going to get some coffee. _You_ are going to cover for me if Cuddy asks." Not hearing any protest, House nodded his approval before limping out of the room.

Foreman rolled his eyes as soon as House was out of earshot. "I _hate_ being his lackey."

Chase smirked slightly, and Cameron frowned. The frown deepened, though, as Chase's light laugh turned into a cough. When half a minute had gone by and the younger doctor still hadn't caught his breath, Cameron began to look worried. "Chase, are you alright?" He managed to shake his head, and Cameron was on her feet in an instant, one hand on his shoulder. "Foreman, get him some water!"

Foreman was a step ahead of her, forcing a plastic cup of water into Chase's hand and firmly instructing him to drink it.

Chase took the water and chugged it gratefully, gasping for air. He took a few shaky breaths before relaxing, closing his eyes and placing the cup on the table as the trembling fingers of one hand massaged his throat. "I'm sorry about that. I…I don't know what happened."

"Are you feeling alright?" Cameron asked, her brow furrowing in concern. She reached out to lay the back of her hand against his forehead. "You don't have a fever."

"I think I just inhaled the wrong way;" he said, smiling reassuringly and standing up. "I'm going to go see about the MRI. Foreman, can you schedule the CT?"

The older man nodded. "Sure."

Cameron stood. "What should I do?"

Chase shrugged. "Go talk to the patient, see if you can calm her down."

She frowned. "You know I'm not that good at bedside comforting…"

Chase gave her an almost House-like grin. "There's a bit of Florence Nightingale in everyone, Cameron." He waved and left, Foreman at his heels.

Cameron sighed and neatly arranged some of the scattered pieces of paper on the conference room paper. "_Boys._"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Angela Brown was much calmer by the time Chase went in to see her. She greeted him with a weary smile and a slightly hoarse "Good morning, Doctor."

Chase hooked one foot around a stool and dragged it over to the bed, sitting down. "Good morning, Mrs. Brown."

"You're a different doctor than before;" Angela noted.

He smiled. "Yes, Dr. Cameron wanted me to brief you on the tests we're going to run. I'm Dr. Chase."

She inclined her head slightly. "I'd introduce myself, but my name's on the file."

"So I noticed. It's good to know your sense of humor is still intact." He flipped the file open, scanned it briefly, then closed it. "Alright. Before we start, are there any other symptoms you've noticed since coming here? Besides the obvious;" he added as an afterthought.

Angela shrugged, wincing at the motion. "It hurts a bit when I breathe."

Chase nodded. "A sharp pain, or a dull one?"

"Sharp."

"Alright." He made a note of it on the cover of the folder. "We're going to do a scan of your lungs, as well as an MRI and some X-rays. None of these tests are painful, so there's nothing to worry about. We're basically just taking a bunch of pictures." He brushed his bangs away from his face with the back of his hand. "Are you allergic to any medications?"

She seemed to think for a moment. "Ibuprofen?"

Chase scribbled "ibu-allergic" on the file, then stood. "Alright then, Mrs. Brown, I think that's about it. Your tests aren't scheduled to start for about an hour, so you can relax." He paused at the door. "Is there anyone you'd like us to call, to let them know that you're here?"

"My husband;" For the first time, she looked scared. "I'd like him to come and be with me."

Chase nodded, smiling. "I'll call him myself."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

House came over just as Chase was hanging up the phone. "I don't think you're on break just yet."

Chase glanced at him. "I'm not." He started back towards Angela Brown's room.

House fell into step beside him, and Chase unconsciously slowed his pace to match House's. "So, who were you having phone sex with? And on the job, no less."

The Australian rolled his eyes. "I was calling Angela Brown's husband, if you must know."

House frowned. "Whose husband?"

"Angela—" He sighed. "The blood-coughing lady."

"Oh, her." House raised an eyebrow. "She's not even dead yet, and you're already moving in on her husband? I'm impressed. I knew you were kinky after the whole dominatrix thing, but I didn't know you were into guys."

Chase stopped short, gaping at him. "_What?_"

House snapped his fingers. "You know, I guess that _does_ explain why you and Foreman are always running off together. I was beginning to wonder why you never whined when I sent you two off to—" Chase cut him off by breaking down into a fit of coughing. House nearly brushed it off as faking, but then paused, listening carefully. It was a wet, wracking cough, and Chase was doubled over, one hand over his mouth and gasping for air. "Chase;" House said, reaching out to touch Chase's shoulder. The younger doctor knocked the hand away, turned, and unwisely ran, making it to the nearest bathroom before dropping to his knees and vomiting into the closest toilet.

Limping House followed him into the bathroom. Leaning against the front of one of the sinks, he sighed and said amiably "You don't take jokes very well."

Violent choking answered him, and he nearly cringed. He crossed the bathroom to the water cooler near the wall, pouring a plastic cup of water.

When the sounds of retching finally stopped, Chase flushed the toilet and stumbled over to the sink. He turned the tap on with his elbow and leaned over, splashing cold water over his hands and face.

"Here;" House said gruffly, handing him the cup. The younger doctor accepted it without a word, and took a careful sip, careful not to force anything down. House took the silence as an opportunity to study the intensevist, blue eyes rapidly taking in sweat dampened hair, fever-bright eyes, and flushed skin. He sighed. "When do you have break?"

It was a very uncharacteristic question. Chase finished the water and answered wearily "In another hour."

"I'm letting you off early." Chase's eyes widened, and House shrugged. "It won't do _me_ any good if you pass out on the job. Go lie down in my office, it's quieter."

The Australian doctor looked ready to protest, but thought better of it. "Thank you;" he said softly, and left.

House watched him go, then left the bathroom after him, nearly knocking Cuddy over as he did so.

The Dean of Medicine looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Dr. House. I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what you and Dr. Chase were doing in the women's bathroom?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Cameron looked at House in shock. "He's _where_?"

"Asleep in my office." House answered calmly. "After he threw up for five minutes straight, what would you have done?"

"Probably that;" she admitted. "But it's not what I expected?"

He shrugged. "I have my moments of compassion."

"Why not just send him home?"

"I'm not _that_ compassionate." He settled back in his chair, and poked Foreman with his cane as the neurologist rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. "Now, now, no need to fuss. You know I love all you little ducklings the same amount. You don't have to worry about me playing favorites."

Foreman glared at him. "Why would I worry about something like that?"

House waved his hands in mock fear. "Oh, I'm terrified. The wannabe car thief is going to hurt me."

"I could."

"Good for you, you can beat up a cripple. I'll have a certificate of honor printed up right away."

Cameron cleared her throat loudly before Foreman could retort. "I have Angela Brown's test results here."

House looked a bit disappointed about having his fun spoiled. Sighing, he looked at the brunette. "Well, they aren't going to read themselves."

She flushed and quickly looked down at the tests. "The CT was clear, no signs of tissue damage. Same with the MRI and X-ray." She looked at House.

He didn't hesitate. "Do you have the film?"

She blinked. "Yes." She handed the scans to him.

House switched on the overhead and slapped the photos on it. "Tell me what you see here."

Neither doctor spoke for a few moments.

Finally, Foreman answered. "A healthy pair of lungs;" he sighed, waiting for the correction.

He wasn't disappointed. "Wrong." He tapped a spot on the scan. "Look closer."

Cameron peered at it, then gasped as a light bulb went off in her head. "There's a sliver of one of the ribs missing. Just there." She pointed.

"And bingo was his name-o." House sat down on the edge of the table. "Little Angela clearly did something that forced her rib to crack, and never got it treated. Since it was never treated, the piece of bone broke off and did;" he paused. They didn't answer. "Well?"

"Punctured a hole in the lung?" Cameron guessed. "It explains the blood."

"But not the coughing;" Foreman argued.

House rolled his eyes, giving up on them. "Cameron was right about the hole. As for the coughing, it's bronchitis. Start her on antibiotics and schedule surgery to repair the lung." He glanced at the clock and sighed. "That was a waste of ten minutes. I could have diagnosed that in my sleep. _Dr. Chase_ could have diagnosed that in his sleep."

Cameron raised her eyebrows. "Since when did you stick up for Chase?"

"Since I discovered that the intelligence level of this room decreases significantly when he's not here." He stood. "Well, naptime's over. Time to go give the Aussie a wake-up call." He limped out of the room.

As they stood up to follow him, Foreman leaned over to Cameron and whispered "Do you think he knows we know he's worried about Chase?"

Cameron merely smiled, picking up her stethoscope as they left the room.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Chase was asleep when they reached House's office, curled up on the couch and using his lab coat as a blanket. He blinked sleepily at House when the diagnostician nudged him with his cane. "What?"

"Wakie wakie time." House told him.

Chase stretched languidly and sat up. "What time is it?"

"A little after eleven." Cameron said. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold;" he answered, shivering slightly. He picked up his lab coat and tugged it on. "Is the AC on in here?"

Foreman glanced at the thermostat on the wall and frowned. "No. It's almost 70 in here." He glanced at House.

House shrugged. "I like to think that if it's going to be sunny and 70 somewhere, it might as well be here."

Another shiver rippled through Chase's body. The Australian was shaking badly now, his fists clenched to keep them steady. "How can it be seventy? It's bloody freezing in—" His breath caught in his throat and he started coughing. His eyes widened suddenly and his hands flew to his throat as he choked for air.

Cameron leapt to her feet. "He can't breathe!"

House didn't waste a second, grabbing the stethoscope out of Cameron's hand and ripping open the collar of Chase's shirt to ram the bowl against the blonde's chest. He held Chase's shoulder steady with his free hand, straining to hear. His eyes widened slightly, the closest thing to an expression of panic anyone had ever seen on him. "Breathe, Chase." A note of worry crept into his voice. "Chase, you have to _breathe_!"

Foreman swore loudly, reaching behind Chase and clapping him firmly on the back. "Dammit, dammit, dammit—" each word was punctuated by a none-too-gentle (Chase would thank him for it later) slap. Whatever was clogging Chase's airways seemed to dislodge and he took a ragged, desperate breath, then another, frantically trying to get his lungs working again. His muscles seemed to fail him and he fell back, half against House and half against Foreman.

House eased his arm free, letting Foreman help the younger doctor into a sitting position while he listened to Chase's erratic heartbeat slowly return to normal. Finally, he pulled the stethoscope free and handed it back to Cameron. "Sorry about your shirt, Dr. Chase. Fortunately, you won't be needing it much longer."

Leaning against Foreman, Chase merely looked at him with tired, dull blue eyes.

"Well, you'll be in a hospital gown pretty soon;" House clarified. "Actually, as soon as Dr. Cameron comes back to tell us what room we're going to put you in."

Cameron caught the hint and left.

House waited until the sound of Cameron's footsteps faded before looking back at Chase. "You;" he said flatly; "are sick."

Chase shook his head. "Brilliant diagnosis, doctor." He tried to push himself up, only to be gently shoved back against Foreman. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are." House said sarcastically. "And I'm screwing Cuddy."

"We already knew that." Chase said. "Given up on Cameron, then, have you?"

House's eye gave an almost imperceptible twitch. "You know, you're supposed to wait until you hit puberty to ask questions about people's sex lives."

"And once you're a senile old man, you're not supposed to be answering them." Chase retorted.

House raised an eyebrow, inclining his head. "Touché."

Chase smirked ever-so-slightly, then shivered, hugging his arms against his chest.

"Are you alright?" Foreman asked, his grip on Chase's shoulder tightening.

"Cold;" Chase muttered, almost guiltily.

Foreman hesitated, then took off his lab coat and draped it around Chase's shoulders. Chase accepted it with a whispered word of thanks, his eyes fluttering closed.

House frowned, reaching over to flick Chase's bangs back. "Stay awake." Chase gave him a long-suffering look, and House felt his resolve cracking. "At least until Cameron gets back;" he compromised.

Chase nodded, his eyelids falling to half-mast.

Foreman's eyes met House's over the top of Chase's head. The hand that wasn't gripping Chase's shoulder sifted lightly through the blond hair to rest on Chase's forehead. "Fever."

House nodded, resting his chin on the handle of his cane and studying chase with calculating blue eyes.

He should have noticed that the Australian was getting far too pale.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

A cup of coffee was pressed into House's hand, and he glanced at Cameron. "What's this?"

She smiled at him. "Two sugar, no milk."

He cocked an eyebrow. "How'd you know how I like my coffee?"

"I _have_ been working here for a year." She pointed out.

"Let me guess. Wilson told you?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Chase did, actually. Awhile back."

"Huh." He took a sip, eyes shifting to Chase through the clear glass of the door.

Cameron followed his gaze. "How is he?"

House shrugged. "Sleeping. Cuddy says not to run any tests just yet, considering he seems to just have bronchitis."

He took another sip. "Very, very sever bronchitis;" he mused.

Cameron looked up at him. "You're actually doing what Cuddy told you?"

"For now." He turned his eyes back to Chase. "She told me that if I went against her, she'd take me off the case."

The dark eyes widened. "So Chase is—"

"My patient. For now." House downed the rest of the coffee, sliding the door to Chase's room open and going inside. "Dr. Chase?"

Chase stirred, blinking. His eyes settled on House. "Am I allowed to get out of bed now? The nurse said—"

"The nurse said 'stay in bed'. I know. That's what I told her to tell you." House sat down on the stool. "Well?"

Chase looked at him. "Well what?"

"Well, you're sick, and I'd think that, you being an intensevist, you would have been doing some thinking." House looked at him expectantly.

The Australian fell quiet, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. When he spoke, it was quietly. "The only logical explanation I can think of is bronchitis that I've ignored for too long."

House raised an eyebrow. "Nothing else?"

Chase shrugged. "There aren't any symptoms for anything else."

"None that have shown up." House tapped his cane against the floor. "What other problems do you have, besides the coughing?"

Chase counted them off on his fingers, as calmly as a mother listing her child's chores. "Chest pain, fever, drowsiness, dizziness, shortness of breath—" he thought for a moment. "That's about it."

"Well, that gives us some other options right there." House tossed his cane in the air, let it twirl, and caught it. "All of those could point to pneumonia, tuberculosis, pulmonary embolisms, lung cancer, all those fun little diseases."

"Optimistic, aren't you?" Chase asked dryly.

"Just keeping the options open." He twirled the cane again.

"Regretting your decision to not do cheerleading in high school?"

House raised an eyebrow. "I'll have you know that I happened to be quite prominent in the cheerleading squad at my high school."

Chase blinked. "Really?"

House snorted. "We'll add 'gullible' to your list of symptoms." He pushed himself up. "Go to sleep. I'll be back to interrogate you some more later."

The intensevist rolled hiseyes and turned over, pulling the blankets over his head.

House limped out of the room, sliding the door closed behind him. Cameron was waiting for him. Without giving her a chance to speak, he began barking out orders. "Remember what I said about Cuddy telling me not to run tests?"

"Yes;" she said suspiciously.

"Well, forget it. I want you to get a blood sample, scan for any antibodies you can think of. Get a CT too, of the lungs."

She fell into step beside him. "Don't you think we're reading too far into this? Maybe you should just give him some antibiotics and a few days off?"

He scoffed. "Days off? Honestly. I thought you knew me better than that."

Cameron smiled. "In other words, you want to keep him here so that you can keep an eye on him until he's well."

House sniffled in mock hurt. "Believe what you want." He turned, limping off in the direction of the cafeteria. "Get started on those tests."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Okay, I was going to post the whole story at once, but…my hands hurt now. So you can expect the second part within the next few days.

Please, please, PLEASE review. This is my first House fic, and I want some feedback! Flames will be used to light Mimi's candle.


	2. Part II

Okay, here's the second and final part. I hope you enjoy it. First off, though…

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_**Reviewer Responses:**_

****

**Mollisk: **No, it's not slash. Don't worry, I haven't slashed this show…yet.

**Nemesis' Arrow: **Glad you like it.

**rascalflattsgurl43: **I'm happy you like it.

**Catherine3: **Yay, a long review! Hehe, these are always my favorites. House was probably the hardest person to write; I didn't want him to be too OOC, which is difficult in a fic like this. I'm going for reluctantly affectionate, which I think is really the way he acts towards Chase anyway. Yeah, the women's bathroom scene is pretty funny. My goal is to send this fic to David Shore and maybe (In my wildest fangirl fantasies) it'll be made into an episode. I do plan to write some more House fanfiction, but chances are it won't be as medically involved as this one is. Thank you for reviewing, I hope you enjoy the update!

**TonkyHonk: **The wait is over!

**Secretchild: **I'm glad. Is this soon enough?

**ILuvPiratesSavvy: **First off…love the username. Love it. Are you a _Pirates of the Caribbean_ fan, by any chance? I can't get enough of them, either. Hehe.

**Rather Dashing: **Yes, because Chase is pretty. Hehe. I'm glad people are saying House is in-character…Here ya go.

**Reader: **Yay for solid writing! All you Chase fans, rock on. Assuming I don't kill him off…muweheheh…just kidding, I'd never do that.

**ElveNDestiNy: **ANOTHER Chase fan? Wow, what TOOK you guys so long? J/K. Well, I always love to get long reviews, so feel free to write a long one when you review this chapter. Good luck with your story, if you tell me the title I'll be happy to read it.

**Dru: **Er…thank you. I'm flattered. (nervously edges away from Dru's grip on her knees) You're right, though. It's too bad that there aren't that many Chase fics around here—and trust me, I've looked. I love House/Chase fluff, but I didn't want to do it in my first House fic, and I like the idea of House just being House, and Chase being Chase, but House's attitude towards Chase shifting a bit when he realizes he might lose him. So no dramatic love confessions, no slash, just (hopefully) semi-canon behavior from both of them. I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Alright, there's that. So, here's chapter 2. Enjoy!

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"What are you doing?"

Cameron glanced up, surprised by Chase's sudden question. His voice sounded tired, but that didn't particularly surprise her. "You're awake?"

"Clearly." He pushed himself upright with his arms, leaning against the pillows.

"How do you feel?" She touched his forehead with the back of her hand, more of a motherly gesture than a medical one. "You still have a fever. Have you been coughing less?"

"I've been asleep;" Chase pointed out, just before breaking into an almost ironically timed fit of coughing. He covered his mouth with one hand, turning his head and dislodging Cameron's hand in the process. The immunologist stayed beside him, patting his back and threading her fingers through his hair.

"Can you breathe?" She asked him when the coughing died down.

He nodded, not yet daring to talk. He breathed shakily for a moment. "I'm alright." He took a few more shuddering breaths. "I think."

She regarded him uncertainly for a moment, then bit her lip. "House wants me to take a blood sample. Is that alright?"

He raised his eyebrows. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, but the words were so like him that Cameron didn't worry. "I hope you don't give all your patients the option of having blood drawn."

She rolled her eyes. "I should pull a House and just stick you with the needle for that."

Chase chuckled softly. "You wouldn't be able to come up with a sarcastic remark to follow it up."

Cameron tried to look hurt, but failed and smiled. "I never could argue with a sick person." She slid on a pair of gloves and reached for the bottle of rubbing alcohol. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed how tightly his fists were clenched as she cleaned his arm. "You're afraid of needles." It wasn't a question.

He looked away. "Just do it."

She studied his profile, hesitating, then uncapped the needle and gently inserted it into Chase's arm. The younger doctor bit his lip, closing his eyes. Cameron touched his shoulder with her free hand, comfortingly.

The vial filled, and Cameron withdrew the needle, holding a cotton swab against the puncture and putting a band-aid over it. "Done." She smiled jokingly. "Was that so bad?" He didn't reply, but one of his hands went to his throat. She frowned. "Chase?" She touched his arm, and his only response was for his eyes to fly open as he choked, gasping. "Chase!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"House."

House looked up to find himself looking directly into a large, welcoming pair of breasts. "Hello, there;" he said to them. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day to come."

"Ahem." The owner of the breasts, now revealed to be a clearly irritated Lisa Cuddy, glared at him.

He sighed. "I knew it was too good to be true." He reclined back in his chair. "If it's sex you want, it'll have to wait until later. Wilson and I hired a stripper, and they should be getting back any minute now."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Don't you just _wish_." She crossed her arms and regarded him calmly. "About Dr. Chase."

"Brilliant doctor. Lacking a bit in the personality department, but at least he's pretty. Isn't he a bit young for you, though?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know if you should be the one who treats him."

All joking vanished from House's face. "You let me treat my ex-girlfriend's husband, but you won't let me treat my own intensevist?"

Cuddy frowned. "You were an emotional _wreck_ after you treated Stacy's husband. And if—Heaven forbid—Chase died, you would—"

"I thought _you _were the one who said that there probably wasn't anything wrong with him." House interrupted.

"It's _hypothetical_." Cuddy said, sighing. "The point is, if some reason he died under your care, you'd blame yourself and—"

"In order to feel guilty, I'd have to actually care about him in the first place." House pointed out.

Cuddy snorted. "Stop kidding yourself."

He was spared from answering by the shrill beeping of his pager. He shifted to look at it, then bolted to his feet as quickly as his bad leg would allow. "We need to go."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"What's going on?" House demanded, all but crashing into Chase's room.

"He's going into cardiac arrest;" Foreman said shortly, rapidly hooking up the defibulator.

House's eyes flew to Cameron. "How?"

"I don't know!" She said, frantically ripping open the front of Chase's hospital gown. "He just seized up out of nowhere and—"

"Clear!" House interrupted, grabbing the paddles from Foreman and pressing them briefly against Chase's chest. Chase's body arched up and dropped limply back down. House glanced at the monitors. "Dammit. Charging—clear!" He looked at Cameron. "Anything?"

She shook her head, eyes wide. "Once more." It was nearly a plea.

"Charging—clear!" The heart monitor's flat tone spiked, and returned to a steady, if slow, rhythm. House sighed in relief and sagged back against Foreman, half-wondering when he had dropped his cane. The neurologist held his arm until Cuddy handed him the discarded cane, and he straightened. "How is he?"

Cameron checked the monitors. "Blood pressure at 70 over 40 and climbing, pulse at twenty." She ran a shaking hand through her hair. "We almost lost him;" she said softly, as if in awe.

House limped to the head of the bed to study the intensevist. Chase was still eerily pale, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes were closed, dark lashes forming stark semi-circles against his skin. "Cameron, did you get that blood sample?" He asked, his eyes never straying from Chase's face.

"Yes. I managed to get it capped before he…" She trailed off, then cleared her throat. "I have it."

"Bring it down to the lab. I want it tested for HIV, drugs, antibodies…anything that'll give us a clue to what we're dealing with. Foreman, go into my office and get Chase's file. Find his emergency contacts and call them, tell them what's going on." Neither of them answered, simply left. House waited until the clicking of Cameron's heels and Foreman's light steps had faded before addressing his boss. "Cuddy."

"Save it." She sighed heavily, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. "He's your patient, House. Do what you think is right." She left.

House returned his gaze to chase, slowly reaching out and resting a hand on the burning forehead. His finger sifted through blond hair, and he sighed. "You;" he said decisively; "are more trouble than you're worth."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Foreman was just hanging up the phone when House entered the conference room.

"Well?" House said expectantly, plopping down into the first chair he grabbed.

"I just got off the phone with Simon Lawrence;" Foreman began.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"I'd tell you, if you gave me a second to finish talking." Foreman retorted.

House rolled his eyes. "Then by all means, pray continue."

"Thank you." The neurologist said sarcastically. "Simon Lawrence is Chase's best friend; he lives up on Long Island. I think they went to college together in London."

"How fascinating. Is he coming?"

Foreman nodded. "Yes, he's coming. I reached his cell phone, and according to him he was getting in the car when we hung up." He rubbed his temples briefly, then looked at House, an almost hopeful look in his eyes. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

House hesitated, then sighed. "No. Not yet."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"He's HIV negative." Cameron announced abruptly as she walked into House's office.

If the news had any effect on the diagnostician, he didn't show it. "Did he test positive for anything else?"

She shook her head. "Negative for all the antibodies we tested for." She took her eyes off the test results to look at him, her eyes wide with concern. "House…what if we can't diagnose him? What if—"

"Snap out of it." He said sharply, cutting her off in mid-sentence. "You're a doctor, Cameron. You don't have the liberty to focus on the 'what-ifs'. Got it?"

She nodded, taken aback. "You're right. I…I'm sorry."

He waved the apology off. "You don't have the liberty to be sorry, either. Still have that blood sample?"

"Yes."

"Run an occult blood test. Check for signs of gastrointestinal bleeding." He tapped his cane against the floor. "After that, go down to the lobby and find Chase's friend. Chances are he's wandering around in the waiting room, making trouble."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Cameron was back in the lobby fifteen minutes later, after being kicked out of the lab by the technicians who were getting annoyed by the immunologist's fidgeting. She sighed, sipping at the cappuccino she had picked up in the cafeteria. Her concern for her Australian co-worker was making her antsy, and she knew it.

"Um…excuse me, doctor?" A hand touched her shoulder gently.

She looked up. The man who had spoken was about Chase's age, tall and lean, with dark brown hair pulled into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had bright, expressive brown eyes, which at the moment were filled with worry and nervousness. Wearing jeans and a grey hooded sweatshirt, he looked out of place with the surrounding doctors. Cameron forced a smile. "What can I help you with? Check-in is over there, you'll have to wait for a free receptionist…"

A distinctly British accent was audible with the man's next words. "I'm looking for a Dr. Cameron, and I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find him or her?"

"I'm Dr. Cameron;" she supplied, hoping that this man wasn't the product of one of Chase and Foreman's matchmaking schemes. "What can I do for you?"

He seemed to relax a bit. "I spoke to Dr. Foreman on the phone, and he said to find you when I got here. I'm Simon Lawrence."

She stood. "Chase's friend, right?"

He nodded, and his light smile faded. "Is he…"

She sighed. "He's stable. That's really all I can tell you right now. You can see him."

Simon nodded again, clearly trying to force a smile and failing. "That's why I'm here."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Your blood test came back negative for HIV." House said, tapping Chase's file against his hand. "That means that you don't have HIV, which means that you don't have an opportunistic infection resulting from HIV, which means that you don't have AIDS."

"You thought I had _AIDS_?" Chase's eyes went wide.

"Relax. We were just being open to all possibilities." House rolled his eyes. "Besides, I said you _didn't _have AIDS. Would it kill you to pay attention?"

Chase smiled lightly. "I never really thought about the hell our patients go through, with all the tests we submit them to. I guess I have a better idea of how they feel now."

House snorted. "Well, when you're done dying and you're back on your feet, you can share your newfound empathy with them. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"Assuming I end up back on my feet." Chase said softly.

House frowned, detecting the change in Chase's tone. "Why wouldn't you be? Planning on crawling around on your knees?"

"You just said it yourself—for all you know, I'm dying." Fever-bright blue eyes met House's. "You don't know what's wrong with me."

House couldn't lie to him. "You're right. I don't." He didn't break eye contact. "But you aren't going to die."

Chase raised his eyebrows. "How do you know?"

"Because I said so." House said firmly.

Chase rolled his eyes. "I didn't know you cared."

"I don't. I just don't feel like hiring a new intensevist, which is what I'll have to do if you die. And people with all the right criteria are hard to come by." House explained calmly.

Chase smiled. "Right. However could I have mistaken your professional concern for actual—"

"Rob?"

Two sets of blue eyes flashed to the doorway, and Chase's widened. "Simon?"

Simon all but ran to him, looking him over. He placed one hand on Chase's arm, sitting down on the side of the bed. "Bloody hell, mate, you look awful."

Chase laughed softly. "Flattery was always your strong point, wasn't it?" His eyes turned serious. "How did you know I was here?"

"Dr. Foreman called me…"

While the two engaged in quiet conversation, House stood and headed for the door. Cameron glanced at him. "Where are you going?"

"One insane British person is bad enough. I hardly want to be in a room with two of them." House said simply, and limped from the room.

"I'm not British!" Chase called after him.

House stopped, and looked over his shoulder. "I know you're not."

And he left, leaving a blinking Australian behind him.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"So let me get this straight;" Wilson took a sip of his coffee. "Your intensevist could be dying. You've run every test in the book, and they've all come back negative. You essentially have no idea what you're dealing with. Is that right?"

House poured another packet of sugar into his coffee. "That's right."

"So why the _hell_ are you sitting out here on a coffee break if that's what's going on?" Wilson asked incredulously.

House shrugged. "I though maybe you'd have some ideas."

Wilson leaned back in his chair. "You mean you don't?"

House shook his head. "I don't know."

Wilson looked taken aback, and didn't speak for a moment. His voice was quiet when he next spoke. "It's pretty scary to hear you say that."

House honestly couldn't come up with a snarky remark. "It's scary saying it;" he admitted.

"Excuse me…Dr. House?"

He glanced up to see Chase's friend. "What do you want?" Wilson kicked his good leg under the table, and he sighed. "_Fine._" He glared briefly at Wilson, then looked back at Simon. "Simon Lawrence, right?"

Simon nodded. "Yes. Ah…may I?" He indicated the empty seat next to House.

"Sure, why the hell not?" Another kick.

"What my friend here means to say is of course, have a seat." Wilson shot House a look—which House answered by sticking out his tongue and making a face—and turned to Simon, extending his hand. "I'm Dr. Wilson, by the way."

"Simon." They shook hands. "Are you one of Rob's doctors?"

"Not officially." Wilson drained the rest of his coffee. "But I've worked with Dr. Chase and I'd certainly be sorry to lose him, so I'm helping with the case."

"So, then;" House cleared his throat, not one to be left out. "Mr. Lawrence—"

"Dr. Lawrence." Simon corrected.

"_Dr._ Lawrence?" House raised an eyebrow. "Doctor of what?"

"Mycology."

"Mycology?" Wilson looked interesting. "That's…the study of fungus, right? Interesting."

Simon nodded. "Yeah. I got my PhD a few years back."

"What exactly made you want to sit around and poke fungus all day?" House's voice contained a distinct hint of disgust.

Simon grinned. "In all due truthfulness? Just to make my sister squirm. She hates it." His grin faded, and he fiddled with the drawstring on his hood. "Rob…Rob said that you didn't know what was wrong with him." He looked at House. "Is that true?"

House would have given anything to say that it wasn't. "Yes. It is."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"The occult was negative." Cameron said, plopping down in House's swivel chair.

"What does that mean?" Foreman asked.

"It means it's not gastrointestinal bleeding." House said, frowning at Cameron.

She surrendered the chair and settled herself on House's desk. "Which means we're back to having absolutely no idea what's wrong with him." She added softly.

Foreman looked surprised, than looked down at his hands.

An unusual silence settled through the room.

House let his eyes shift, wandering around the room and looking for anything—anything—that could give him a hint.

His eyes settled on a potted plant. Cameron had brought the flowering cactus in that winter, to "brighten the room", he recalled.

Cactus.

Botany.

Mycology.

Fungi.

Fungal infections.

It clicked. He surged to his feet.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Chase and Simon looked up in surprise when House all but crashed into the room.

Cutting off the onslaught of "are you all rights", House cut right to the point. "Dr. Lawrence, have you ever shown any of your various fungi friends to Chase?"

Simon blinked. "I…yeah, sometimes. Every now and then I'll bring something new over, but I haven't recently."

Chase frowned. "Wait…you did bring that one by my apartment a few weeks back…" He thought for a moment, the lines of concentration easing the lines of pain on his face. "Cocci-something…"

"Coccidioides immitis." Simon nodded. "I remember. It grows in Mexico and the Southwestern US." He looked at House, confused. "But why does that matter?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Coccidiodomycosis." House slapped his internet findings down on the table. "Caused by inhaling the pollen of the coccidioides immitis fungi. Chase probably breathed some of it in while he and his British boyfriend were poking at it." He sighed. "When will children learn not to poke Mexican plants?"

"Are you sure that's what he has?" Cameron asks nervously. "If we're wrong, the treatment could—"

"He shows all the symptoms, including the thin cavities that the chest scan showed." House shrugged. "As for the treatment…if it works, great, if it doesn't, I get sued. Good thing Cuddy put aside all that money for my legal expenses."

"You can't just shrug this off!" Foreman protested. "This isn't just some meaningless patient, this is _Chase_."

Cameron nodded her agreement. "Foreman's right. Are you sure you want to risk it?"

House took a breath, and released it. "It's dangerous;" he admitted. "But if I am right, he'll die without the treatment. And I can't have that, because I'm too lazy to do more job interviews. It was annoying enough after _you_" he nodded at Cameron "left, and if he's dead I can't date him to get him to come back. So;" he stood. "Start him on amphotericin B."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

House stopped by Chase's room the next evening on his way out of the clinic. The Australian was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, tying the laces on his sneakers. House leaned against the doorframe. "You're being discharged?"

Chase nodded, straightening. "The nurse said that you gave your permission for me to go home, since the treatment was working."

House limped over, taking a seat next to Chase on the bed. "Where's Dr. Lawrence?"

"Simon? He went to get his car." He gave House a slight smile. "He doesn't trust me to drive home by myself. He's going to stay at my place for a day or two, then head back to New York."

"Smart guy." House tossed his cane back and forth between his hands. "You're feeling better, then?"

"Thanks to you." They sat in silence for a few moments. "House…it's never going to be the same between us, is it?" Chase's voice was soft. "Since that whole Vogler thing?"

"Probably not." House admitted.

"Are you ever going to trust me again?"

It was a moment before House spoke again. "We'll see."

Simon tapped at the doorframe to announce his arrival. "Ready to go?"

Chase nodded. Simon crossed the room and took Chase's arm, pulling him gently to his feet.

As they reached the door, House spoke up. "Dr. Chase."

Chase glanced over his shoulder. "Take the rest of the week off. I want to see you back first thing Monday morning."

Chase smiled. "I'll see you at eight."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

**the end **

**Ending Notes: **Well, from the reviews, this was pretty well-liked. I'm glad everyone enjoyed it, and I hope the ending was alright, personally I thought it was a bit choppy. Well, I guess I'll see you all around with my next House fic. Bye everyone!


End file.
